To Walter’s great relief, Vera asked no further questions. She turned away obediently enough, and he hurried back to the studio. Lord Ravenspur still lay on the Persian rug, but with Walter’s help he contrived to get into a chair. A little brandy brought some trace of colour to his face. He seemed more like himself again. “They heard nothing in the house?” he asked anxiously.
“Only Vera,” Walter explained. “She was terribly frightened, but she believed what I told her, and she has gone up to her room. And now, perhaps, you will tell me the truth.”
“Do you think I have not already done so?”
“My dear uncle, I am sure of it. I know it is possible for people to make the most hideous noises when they are suffering from nightmare, but this is quite another matter. You called aloud for help. You were in imminent danger of losing your life. Before I broke the door down I distinctly heard somebody give a low chuckle. Of course, you can make light of this in the morning. You can induce people to laugh at your absurd situation, but you cannot deceive me. I know there was someone in the room when I forced the door.”
“Then where is he now, Walter?” Lord Ravenspur asked.
“Ah, that I cannot tell; but he was here right enough.”
“He passed you in the corridor?”
“That he most certainly did not. Nobody came out that way.”
A faint smile came to Lord Ravenspur’s lips. He indicated the room with a wave of his hand.
“I see exactly what you mean,” Walter said. “Of course, if you do not feel inclined to tell me the truth I cannot compel you to do so. But I have only to look at you, to see that you have lately been through a desperate struggle with someone who came here to take your life. You are absolutely exhausted with the severity of it. If I had my own way I would put the matter in the hands of the police.”
“No, no,” Ravenspur said vehemently. “If you have the slightest regard for me you will not venture to say a word to a soul. I want the whole thing to be forgotten. If I remain in my room all tomorrow under the plea of indisposition, I shall be all right the next day. You are to give me your word of honour that you will say nothing of what you have seen tonight.”
“If you wish it so, certainly,” Walter said reluctantly.
“My dear uncle, won’t you trust me? I would do anything to help you. And besides, how are you going to guard against this happening again?
“A bloodthirsty ruffian who can enter a house and vanish in this mysterious fashion, is not likely to be put off, if he knows you are going to take no steps to guard yourself against a further attack. But what has become of him?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Ravenspur said wearily. “I was sitting in my chair when the light suddenly went out and I heard the door locked. Then I had to fight for my life, and was nearly done for when I called out for assistance.”
“And you saw nothing of him?” Walter asked.
“Nothing whatever,” Ravenspur went on. “I could only feel him. And after that I recollect no more till you came.”
“A most extraordinary thing,” Walter said, somewhat impatiently. “Surely you have some idea as to who the man is. Surely he must be the same man who mistook Sir James Seton for yourself tonight.”
No reply came from Lord Ravenspur. Evidently he desired to say no more. He seemed anxious to be alone. But Walter, angry and hurt, walked rapidly about the room seeking for a way whereby the late visitor had vanished. But he looked in vain. There was no possible means of exit other than the door, and the fireplace was too narrow to admit of anybody coming or going. As to the roof, it was of heavy stained glass, and as impregnable as the walls themselves. The mystery was maddening. And yet the one man who could have explained it all sat there silent, and moody, and tongue tied.
“Is there anything more that I can do for you before I go to bed?” Walter asked. “Are you sure I can’t help you?”
“I am afraid not, my boy,” Ravenspur said in a dull, mechanical way. “I know that you won’t chatter about this thing. And, perhaps, a little later on, I shall be able to speak more plainly. I shall be glad if you will help me up the stairs and get me into bed. I have had a great shock tonight.”
It seemed almost cruel to pursue the subject further, and Walter refrained from questions as he noticed the ghastly whiteness of his uncle’s face. The latter was disposed of at length, and then Walter came downstairs again. He now had the house practically to himself. All desire for sleep had forsaken him. Besides that, it was no nice thought to reflect on the possibility of that ruffian being still on the premises. Walter had not the slightest doubt in his mind that the man had left the studio in some secret manner, and that he had come there through no ordinary channel. What was to prevent him returning again when the house was asleep and finishing his work? In itself, the fact of Lord Ravenspur possessing a bitter enemy was remarkable. And Lord Ravenspur’s obstinate silence was more remarkable still. Walter had given his word to say nothing of these strange events, but that did not bind him from making inquiries on his own account.
He returned to the studio once more and made a thoroughly searching examination of the place. Was there some secret door which Lord Ravenspur used, and of which nobody knew anything? It had never occurred to Walter till that moment that his uncle might have turned-down pages in his life, but
